Media Woes
by Livi2Jack
Summary: The media goes searching for a story of galactic proportions! The press will not be ignored. What to do? How did this get so out of hand? Jack goes Hollywood. Please R&R.
1. The Search

**Media Woes**

**by Livi2Jack**

Summary: Jack has made a name for himself.

Email: Humor

Content Level:Teen +

Content Warnings: None

Pairings: None

Season: 10+

Spoilers: Through Season 9

Status: Complete

DISCLAIMER: "Stargate SG-1" and its characters are the property of Sony Pictures MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Film Corp., Showtime/Viacom and USA Networks, Inc. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations and story are the property of the author(s), and may not be republished or archived elsewhere without the author's permission.

* * *

This was just so frustrating. Finding anything in such a backwards place was a challenge. Finding one person on a planet with so many primitives was next to impossible. It was dangerous to just approach anyone. And the few who had been approached dismissed the inquiries out of hand in disbelief.

Normally, going to the authorities would at least get a lead, oh but not here. The ignorant savages were simply disdainful, secretive, or incredulous. They ignored the team or called for security to get them out. Rude, that's what these folks were, simply rude. Well, that and the laughter made everyone so frustrated they could scream. It was a change for sure, getting laughed at.

The team was beginning to think it was the clothing they wore. The natives were snickering and pointing behind their backs. Well, the laughter was not so much behind their backs as being loud chortles and averted glances before bursting into whole hearted guffaws.

Nothing made any sense.

Finally, someone dressed outlandishly with all sorts of facial and body piercings as well as some tattoos took pity and offered to help. At first the team was dubious that such a person had enough brains to help. Anyone who could do that to himself could be suspected of insanity. Just look at him. All that body imprinting had to hurt so much he must have lost his mind from the pain. Worse, he even had a metal spike with balls sticking through his tongue. It had to be some rite of passage ritual or tribal marking. Maybe he was some religious figure who was revered for being crazy.

But he did show the team how to conduct their search. Who would have believed the primitive recordkeeping system these folks used? Crazy Guy's patience ran out after fifteen minutes but it was enough. From that point, the team got busy and did an expert job of searching the data. It took the rest of the afternoon and the next week, but at last they located the object of their quest.

Now how to approach the man? Perhaps after all this searching, it would be enough just to go right up to his door and knock. Sometimes there was elegance in simplicity. However, walking there was out of the question. It was too far away. But the team had secured funds through bartering some items and a hired vehicle. It arrived to carry them off.

In the motorized vehicle, they crossed a river and proceeded through woodlands and a quaint town. The route followed the river south. Well, the directions were arbitrary but that's what the driver labeled the route…South. For all the rustic appearance of the place, folks seemed to be busy at whatever it was that primitives did. The landscape was filed with construction and heavy equipment. Obviously, this economy was booming. And for once, there was a lack of the usual filth these places seemed to strew around these sorts of towns.

It was springtime here with a vengeance. Heavy yellow pollen coated the vehicle. Everyone sneezed with abandon. One of the group found some antihistamines in his pack and offered them around. Thankfully, each one accepted and downed it without even water to chase it.

Looking out the windows, the team realized that these people did appreciate gardening. Every home had loads of vegetation in riot with the blossoms of new spring growth. The vibrant colors of the bushes and flowers really were stupendous. Such careful tending of gardens spoke to the civilized nature of the people here. Even if they were backward, these folks did have an aesthetic sense as evidenced in these magnificent gardens, and the pollen count.

At the designated dwelling, the woman went to make contact. The usual modus operendi (M.O.) was to have her approach, since a woman always seemed to be less threatening. It was true; she had fewer doors slammed in her face. It also helped that she was pretty, especially if a man were to answer the door. Sure enough, he did.

"Yes?"

"Colonel Jack O'Neill?"

"Who's asking?" Jack looked her over. It was an unusual get up. She was dressed for a masquerade ball or a community theater production of Jane Eyre. But he waited politely. She could be one of the new neighbors too. So it wouldn't do to be impolite right away.

"Sir, I am Dame Agatha of GNN. I am hoping that I might have a word with you. I want to set an appointment for an interview sometime this week or next at your convenience."

"Who? Never heard of GNN."

"Galactic News Network. I'm here to do a story on SG-1 and the role you played in the defeat of the Goa'uld. If you will permit me, I have brought my credentials and my crew." She pointed to the men waiting at the vehicle.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He shut the door. She stood there a moment more flustered and than irritated. So she knocked again. No answer. Not to be turned away so easily, Agatha pounded harder. Still no answer. It was beginning to hurt her hand.

"Colonel O'Neill, this won't solve anything. I've come 457 light years to meet you and I am not leaving before we speak. Now, be a nice fellow and be friendly." Still nothing. She glanced back at the waiting men and shrugged. So she tried the door knocker. Then she found the doorbell. That was more satisfying.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

The door flung open.

"WHAT!"

"At least hear me out, Colonel O'Neill."

"That would be GENERAL O'Neill. I got promoted."

"Oh, I AM sorry, GENERAL O'Neill. I didn't know. I'll inform the galaxy. Now, please, I've come so very far to find you. Couldn't we please sit down?"

Jack indicated the front stairs with a smirk. She sighed. He was going to be difficult. So she tried her feminine charms with a big smile.

"I like a man with a sense of humor."

"I'm not laughing. Now, go away before I call the cops."

"General O'Neill, you are a hero of galactic proportions. The public has a right to know who their benefactor is. Who is the man behind the defeat of the most evil empire ever known? Who is the man who brought down an oppression that lasted for thousands of years across our galaxy? We want to profile you and your team as the heroes who defeated the Replicators. GNN would like to do a Special Feature as a mini series with the possibility of a feature movie and book deal."

Jack frowned and slammed the door. Behind the door he called security at the Pentagon. While the folks outside debated what to do, Jack made a few other calls. He watched them from behind the blinds. But they finally got into the taxi and went away. They were probably kooks, but they obviously knew something. Plugging that leak would be difficult. Jack wrote down the number and cab designation. They shouldn't be too difficult to remember, they dressed like kooks. He relayed the cab information to Security and went back to watching the hockey game.

The next day, the group tried again to reach Jack at work. Only, they couldn't get to him. He was in a heavily guarded building. It was a large building. Not having the precise location in the building, the few attempts to get in were unsuccessful. And simply announcing themselves only got them ejected unceremoniously after security got ugly.

Sitting next to the buggies waiting outside the building, the stench of the area made one person sick. Security saw the whole thing and sent help. A woman in distress always got a reaction. Some sort of medical personnel came and in the course of making sure she was not going to die, revealed more about their quarry. The medic didn't realize it of course, but his off-hand remark revealed much. The quarry was indeed there. He understood how much the woman wanted to speak to the man in question. So he made an inquiry and one thing led to another. Pretty soon, the group was on its way inside to a holding area to explain why they wanted to get in and speak to the individual. Inside smelled about as bad as outside. The chemicals used to clean the place made the team wrinkle their noses.

"I understand you are looking for one of our Generals. Why?"

"We are interested in interviewing him for a news story. It will be a Galactic Event! It will be the news story of the century! The ratings will be astronomical!"

"What kind of story?" The questioner was very suspicious.

"We would like to profile these intrepid heroes for our forty billion viewers." The man looked skeptical and amused. He sneered. The Team got offended. "We are a famous news team and have been given the assignment to interview him."

"Oh, you have. Well you don't look like a news crew."

"Now see here, we are known throughout the galaxy, well at least through our sector as the most trusted and the most prestigious news organization. You seriously can't tell me you've never heard of GNN?" The editor in charge had his turn at being incredulous.

"Oh, really?" Major Davis wasn't sure. They looked like spies, crazy spies. "The galaxy is it?" He grinned and chuckled some more. "We don't take kindly to pranks, sir. This little adventure is going to get you a ticket to jail not to the Emmys."

The team had no idea what he meant by 'Emmys' but he did understand 'jail.'

"Jail, what for? We came honorably in the open and requested an appointment. How is that cause for a jail sentence?" He was angry and perplexed. "Just a minute, sir, we have credentials and can prove who we are." He dug into his vest pocket to retrieve a small crystal. "Here, this should tell you everything. It has a note from our government, from the Galactic News Network and our biographies. In addition, we have included some sample broadcasts. Among them is Dame Agatha's award winning expose on Goa'uld bounty hunters. Aggie managed to interview Aris Boch himself," the man postured with pride.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Major Davis bluffed in case these were not just spies but weirdo journalists. He looked them up and down. They were dressed outlandishly in outfits more appropriate to the early 1800's. The men were wearing high fastened trousers with elaborate vests over ruffled shirts and cravats securing their collars. Add that to the high topped hats and they were a dandy image. The woman was in a floor length dress with a very full skirt and a silken sash at the waist in a contrasting color. The embroidery was lavish and extensive along the hem and decorating the cuffs and collar. Her hair was done up in braids with a head piece of lace falling down behind her. She was bejeweled as well. All four of them were well spoken and well mannered. Perhaps they were actors hired to pull a prank on the general sent by one of SG-1 as a gag. It wasn't funny.

Major Davis accepted the crystal offered. He examined it briefly and gave it to the guard. "What else do you have on you? Driver's license, credit cards, library card, let's have it all, weapons too." The guards were alert now. And the team felt threatened and indignant.

"There is no need to be violent, sir. WE are civilized people. We have only our equipment and our communicators. We do not carry weapons," he snorted indignantly. "We are NOT military."

"Let's see it then."

"We'll want them back. These are costly items we need to do our work."

"No promises, but if they are harmless, you may get them back after we make that determination. Now hand it all over." With a glance to the guards, Major Davis made it clear that no opposition would be tolerated.

With a heavy sigh, out came various small devices which were not obvious in their purpose. The guard lined them up in a row. Major Davis asked for a demonstration of each one. The first was a holographic communicator. Once activated, the shipboard communications officer answered and then understood the situation. He was asked to stand by and monitor their medical implants. If things got out of hand, then the team would be beamed out. Davis was impressed but it could be some kind of recording and said so. Immediately, the woman was beamed out. She reappeared as a hologram to witness the rest of the meeting. That did it for Major Davis.

"Wait here a moment. I have to make a call."

Outside the room, Davis picked up the nearest phone and dialed Major General Jack O'Neill. In all his years as a liaison for the Pentagon and the Stargate Program, Davis had never had this problem. A galactic news team wanted to interview General O'Neill!

On the other end of the phone there was silence and then, "oy!" O'Neill smirked to himself enjoying the notoriety for a moment in private. Then he called his boss, General Michael Moseley, Air Force Chief of Staff, to let him know that aliens were in the building and why. Moseley did chuckle. And then he ordered O'Neill to find out more before granting an interview. Moseley advised O'Neill to take appropriate precautions in case they were alien assassins. After hanging up, Moseley called the President. This was just too good to keep to himself. Talk about a media sensation, this beat all.

The President wasn't all that amused, having committed a major diplomatic faux pas that morning. It was broadcast by the media. He had insulted the Premier of China every which way, intentionally and unintentionally. And then it spiraled out of control with a member of the Falun Gong interrupting the proceedings screeching insults at the Chinese dignitary for three full minutes before security could contain her. Earth's own media was having a field day. No one seemed to know how the woman got through to the press conference. But someone had issued a press credential not checking far enough to find out she was a known nut case who had done it before. So the President was feeling testy about media matters that day. The Chinese Premier was so angry the only statement he issued was that both nations had discussed matters frankly, which was diplomatic code speak for 'we disagreed about everything.'

Pretty soon, most of those in the know about the Stargate Program knew about the alien visitors. The place was abuzz over the news. Since the filming of "Heroes" several years ago, nothing else had been done to document the antics there, at least by the media on Earth.

O'Neill ordered SG-1 to have a look see at the alien ship. General Landry called them in from some non-productive search of a backwater planet. Sam and Teal'c were unimpressed. Daniel was put out because he had a date for that evening. And Vala, well she just wanted an adventure. But Cam Mitchell was all for it. It was another SG-1 event.

"Now THAT'S what I'm talking about!" he exclaimed. "Another great day exploring planets and being interviewed for the 6 o'clock inter-galactic news!"

"That's INTRA-galactic news," corrected Daniel. "So far as we know, they only broadcast in THIS galaxy."

"Who cares? We're famous. If my grandma only knew!" Cam grinned all the way to the showers. "Hey Grandma, I'm going to be on G-N-N. Hoah daddy! Boggles the mind, don't it?"

"So she interviewed old Aris Boch?" Sam was curious. "Ow! You didn't have to jab me so hard," she complained to the nurse in the Infirmary at the SGC.

"I wonder how he is doing," Daniel speculated. "Hey, Teal'c you think he's still out there?"

"Indeed. He was resourceful."

"Did anyone ever figure out how to reproduce the roshna?" Cam wanted to know about the substance Boch's people depended upon. The Goa'uld wanted to control them with the drug because Boch's people were immune to the implantation of symbiotes. As such they represented a threat to the Goa'uld.

"Um, actually we captured a production facility," Sam reported. "And the Tok'ra helped us figure it out. Now, Boch's people can make it for themselves."

"Well, now, that should have earned us a merit badge with the INTRA-galactic Boy Scouts," Cam enthused. "Maybe that's why they're here, to do a follow-up piece on the roshna and Boch."

"Well, we'll find out soon enough. The Asgaard just finished installing a new transporter in the Pentagon and here. Now, we can go back and forth easily. I know a nice little restaurant in Alexandria that serves great Maryland crabcakes," Sam offered. "I used to go there when I was stationed at the Pentagon. I visit it every time I'm there."

"Be honest, you go once a month for your fix, Sam."

"Daniel, that's not the only reason I go," She gave a meaningful glance at him. Daniel raised his eyebrows and smirked. "I go for the world's best fried pickles. It's the only place in the galaxy that can do them right. Get a brewski and a basket of fried pickles, crabcakes, sit by the river and just let the world go by. Can't beat it."

Teal'c rolled his eyes.

"Fried pickles? Then there is hope for you Sam Carter," Mitchell laughed. "My grandma makes the best in the whole world. So you just go ahead and take us and I'll let you know." He looked over at Teal'c who wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Hey Big Guy, that's a SOUTHERN specialty. Don't knock it until you've tried it."

"I promise not to strike the pickles so that I may enjoy them more fully, Cam Mitchell."

"No, that's an expression…"

"Cam, Cam, he's just messing with you," Daniel explained.

"Well, I am looking forward to sampling your fine Earth cuisine and…getting the hell out of here for a change," Vala got up, buttoning her shirt.

"YOU are not going to Washington," General Landry walked into the Infirmary speaking to Vala. "Considering what happened the last time, you're lucky to be here at all." He surveyed the scene; happy he got to yell at someone finally. Everyone at the SGC did their jobs too well and so he hardly ever got to criticize or complain. It was just plain weird as far as he was concerned.

"I thought I had redeemed myself enough by now. You don't strike me as the type of man who holds a grudge."

"You thought wrong."

"But…"

"Wrong again."

"Sir, do you know what they want exactly?" Daniel wiped his glasses and pouted.

"If I knew that, we wouldn't be sending you to investigate. Now, make certain they aren't spies for our enemies or just loose canons. Check out the ship. Then I want you to check out their homeworld. For that, Vala, you may go up to the ship."

"Right, sir, we'll check out their bona fides." Sam stood at attention with her hands at her sides. The Air Force didn't salute indoors. Landry noticed, nodded, and then walked out.

"He's never going to forgive me is he?" Vala sighed.

"Nope," was the response in unison.

"Right."

The transporter activated in a whoosh and a whine. The Team found themselves looking at a man in an unbelievably garish 'uniform' operating a control panel. He greeted them with his own look of disdain and dismay. Nevertheless, he was efficient. Quickly, he scanned them for weapons and activated a light.

"Now you may proceed. The First Officer is waiting."

"What was that light show, if you don't mind me asking," Cam tried to look at the device.

"I de-activated your weapons. Now, this way." The group shrugged and Vala took umbrage.

"You could have just asked us for them. They're expensive, you know." She got no answer. "I mean you could have kept them and gotten a pretty good price for them on the open market." The others gave her looks of disbelief.

"I don't think they care, Vala. So knock it off," Daniel motioned her to the rear. "So, where do you come from?"

He got no answer either. The ship visit turned out to be routine. The First Officer showed them clips of various news programs and sent them to the Stargate on board. Under escort, the Team went off to investigate, minus the weapons.

"Now THIS is what I'm talking about," exclaimed Mitchell. "A fancy new planet to enjoy. Looks like we won the lotto this week boys and girls. Hoo boy, looka there!" He pointed to spires piercing the heavens at least a mile high. All around the open transit area were vehicles buzzing and transporting a large population. The Stargate terminal was a busy landing place.

A man, at least they were pretty sure it was a man, approached to take them on a tour of the city. Several hours passed before the team returned to the Gate. No doubt about it. These folks were as advertised. So the Team returned to the SGC and debriefed. Landry put in a call to O'Neill.

"So Jack, how's it feel to be a Galactic Celebrity?" He snorted his amusement. "This Dame Agatha has a following that Baba Wawa would kill for. Forty Billion and counting, she says." He heard nothing but a heavy sigh. "Have you decided what kind of tree you would be?" He heard a click and a dial tone. Then Landry called George Hammond at the White House to let him know. Both of them had a good laugh trying to imagine Jack trying to figure out what kind of tree he'd like to be while seated across from the intra-galactic version of Barbara Walters.

In his office, Jack buried his head in his hands. Some days it just didn't pay to answer the door. And then again?

He smirked a little just to himself.


	2. Jack Goes Hollywood

Media Woes II: Jack's Goes Hollywood

By Livi2Jack

Summary: Once the media has a story, it won't let go. GNN arrived to interview Jack. And now he has to cooperate. Or does he?

Sequel Part Two to: Media Woes

Category: Humor

Characters: Team

Pairings: None

Season Ten+

Warnings/Rating: All

For the ATST Challenge 46 to use the word "spiral."

**Author's Note**: For those who don't know the joke, Barbara Walters once asked Katherine Hepburn the all-time stupidest question on one of her "Specials"...if you were a tree what kind of tree would you be?" She's been the butt of jokes for 25 years because of it.

**Disclaimer:** "Stargate SG-1" and its characters are the property of Sony Pictures, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Film Corp., Showtime/Viacom and USA Networks, Inc. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations and story are the property of the author(s), and may not be republished or archived elsewhere without the author's permission.

* * *

Major General Jack O'Neill of the USAF hung his head in his hands over his desk. From deep within came the grunt. "OY!" 

He was famous.

And not just famous, famous Galaxy-wide. GNN, the Galactic News Network wanted an interview. They wouldn't take no for an answer.

The President was NOT amused. And he was. In fact, everyone right down the line was snickering if not chortling over this turn of events. Well, there had to be some fallout from all those antics at the SGC for ten years.

Who knew?

So the order came down.

Cooperate.

"Oy!"

* * *

"He wants to know if I am going to ask him what?" Dame Agatha of GNN the INTRA-galactic version of Barbara Walters was stumped. "What kind of tree he is." 

"What the hell does that mean?" She shook her head. Since meeting the man, Agatha had her doubts about him. He couldn't possibly be the right man. Maybe there was another Jack O'Neill? She'd heard rumors about an O'Neil with one 'L.'

"I don't know, ma'am," the Air Force aid replied. She looked to be about 19 years old and had no idea what the issue was.

"Well find out," snapped Agatha. She wasn't about to upset O'Neill more than he already was. If he wanted to be asked about his tree, then fine. She'd ask. It only made this assignment even more bizarre.

The door opened again. Aggie looked at the rumpled figure of a middle-aged man looking at her as if she had two heads. Well, they all did that. She was getting used to it.

"And what do you want?"

"Um, hello, I'm Emmett Bregman. General O'Neill sent me to help you prepare for the interview." He held out his hand to her. She stared at it. "Um, well," Bregman withdrew his hand. "I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself and set a time to go over your notes." She still only stared at him. "I mean, I am a journalist like you and…"

_Like me? I don't think so._

"So nice to make your acquaintance, Emmett Bregman," she replied and smiled instead. Aggie was irritated. She had a base of 40 BILLION viewers across the galaxy. This man was nothing.

"Yes, ma'am. And may I say that I am very, oh boy, VERY excited about working with you. Imagine! Broadcasting all over the galaxy that's, that's unbelievable."

_Yes, well you would think so wouldn't you?_

"Yes, we do…all over the Galaxy, Mr. Bregman."

"Ok, right, well, I'd like to get started. Show me what you have. And I'll make a list of what you need for background and so forth," Emmett pulled a chair up to the table where Aggie was sitting.

_Forward nobody. Hmm, how to get rid of him?_

"Mr. Bregman, perhaps you would give me a file with your own resume so I can review it to know with whom I am speaking."

"They, they didn't tell you?" Bregman looked stunned. "I'm the official, well for all practical purposes, official journalist for the Stargate Program. I did a program called 'Heroes' a few years back to describe what efforts and accomplishments the Program had made." She looked blank. "They didn't show it to you?" She shook her head. "Oh, well that explains it. I'll have a copy sent to you, immediately." Bregman dug into his pocket and removed a cell phone to order up a copy.

_Pity, these poor folks don't have implants for this nonsense. Look at the size of that instrument. Well, he's trying to be helpful. Poor man is out of his league. _She smiled at him instead.

* * *

"I should have an agent, shouldn't I?" Jack glared at Daniel sitting across his desk. Jack's office in the Pentagon was lovely. As a Major General he was considered to be 'rug rank,' meaning he got a terrific office furnished nicely and a window. "An 'agent,' Jack?" Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose and waited for the inevitable complaining. 

"Sure, shouldn't I have an agent? If they want to do this interview, shouldn't I get paid or something?"

"You are paid, Jack. You are paid by the military. You are doing a public service by doing this interview."

"Not the same, Daniel, I mean there's all the other stuff as well."

"Like what?" Daniel's voice went up an octave. No one had asked him for an interview…yet.

(mumble)

"I didn't get that. What?"

(MUMBLE)

Daniel tapped his finger to his ear and looked askance at his former CO. "Hmmmm?"

"A book deal and…(mumble)

"Didn't catch that?"

"… a 'movie' their style."

"You got a book deal and a movie deal, too?" Daniel's voice definitely went up another octave. He was hurt.

(mumble)

"And?"

"And, what?"

"And what was that mumbling just now?"

"And," Jack sighed, "a speaking engagement tour. Just a few planets, though right now."

"I've got to get me an agent. I'm not military." Daniel stood up and left.

* * *

Sam Carter closed her eyes in ecstasy. Moans of pleasure escaped her lips. Her eyeballs rolled back in her head. She shook with pleasure. Ever so slightly she rolled her tongue across her lips. She sank backwards in delight. 

Teal'c grunted his satisfaction. His eyes closed then opened wide, seeing and not seeing.

"Ok that display was just disgusting, Sam." Daniel watched her reach for another fried pickle slice. "They can't be that good."

"Do not strike your pickle before you tried it Daniel Jackson," Teal'c intoned and grabbed a second basket full from the waitress just arriving with another round.

"Hoo-daddy, those are some good fried pickles. Who woulda thunk it? Sam you sure do know good places hereabouts," Cam Mitchell exclaimed. "Here, gimme some of those, Big Guy." He reached out for Teal'c's freshly arrived basketful.

He was met with Teal'c's scary face.

"Ok, ok, I'll order my own. Waiter! Bring me somma them pickles," He pointed at the basket Teal'c clutched to his chest. "And extra Thousand Island to go with, too!" Cam slouched back grinning. "Not getting in between a Jaffa and his fried pickles, no sir!"

The waiter nodded and was about to leave.

"Um, some more crabcakes, 'hush puppies,' and another round," Vala called out. "What? Can't a girl enjoy her food? I deserve these after that news." Vala arranged her pickle slices in a spiral on her plate.

"Save room for the fried ice cream, Vala," Cam grinned and popped the last fritter.

"What? Is everything you eat fried?"

"If it ain't fried, it ain't food, as my Grandma likes to say." Cam swigged a long pull on his beer.

Holding up a hush puppy, Vala asked, "so why do you call these 'hush puppies?' She popped it in chewing with delight. "This isn't made from dogs," she stopped with mouth full, "or is it?" She spat it out and looked at it again.

"Nope, just cornmeal."

"Oh, good," she popped the half-chewed ball back in.

"Comes from a time when fishermen would take their dogs out with them, make camp, fry up some cornmeal and throw some at the dogs saying, 'hush…puppy.' At least that's what my Grandma told me." Cam eyed Daniel who looked doubtful. "No really, it's a Southern thing. You always eat these with seafood."

Sam grunted and groaned with her eyes closed again.

"Will you stop that?"

All heads swiveled to find Jack staring down at them. Cam jumped up and so did Sam with a salute and her mouth full.

"I'm only going to say this once….at ease." He pulled up a chair as Cam offered his own. "Knew I would find you here," Jack signaled the waitress. "Another one of those," Jack pointed at the beers, "and oh, a basket of fried pickles. She's dangerous when she runs out of them."

"Nice to see you, General," Vala said hopefully. Jack eyed her with suspicion and nodded briefly. He took his seat facing the Potomac River.

"What's she doing here?"

"We took pity on her, sir, and asked General Landry to let her out with us."

"I've been good, haven't I?" Vala looked around getting no answer. "Well, mostly good." Still no answer. "Ok, except for that little bit back there with the…"

"Stop while you're ahead," Daniel ordered. He hung his head, shaking it. She was a loose canon and always would be. But sometimes that came in handy.

"What? Those weapons were valuable. And they just turned them into junk without so much as a by your leave."

"Does anyone still know about …(security)? Jack mouthed.

"Shut up, Vala."

"Oh, right."

"See this is why we don't take you out."

"Alright, I got it." Vala huffed and then eyed a passing young man in shorts. She liked what she saw and flashed a broad smile. "Excuse me, I'll be right back." Getting up to go, Daniel's hand shot out to stop her. Pulling her back down, he gave her such a look.

"No."

"No? Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Oh, well, since General O'Neill is here, I guess it's a private party." She smiled and gave Jack the once over. He raised his eyebrows half amused. Sam cleared her throat.

"Ahem, well, we should have a party to celebrate, sir."

"Should we, Carter?"

"And what happens when all this gets broadcast? What then?" Mitchell frowned.

"We have a problem," Jack replied.

* * *

"He got a **WHAT?"** President Hayes was pissed. 

Retired Lt. General George Hammond frowned. As the President's Off World Affairs advisor, he was constantly shuttling between the White House and the Pentagon.

"An agent," replied Hammond. "He's with IGM, and that's not all. He also got a manager."

"What's next, an entourage?"

"Jack's got a few already. He calls them his 'brain dead sycophants.' It's serious."

"Can he do that? He's still in uniform."

"As long as he doesn't tell them what it's all about, we can't stop him."

"You're kidding, right? You're not kidding? Oh my God!" The President's mouth dropped open. "Well how did he get them to talk to him in the first place if they don't know what this is for?"

"Bregman helped them."

"I'll shoot the sonofabitch. What else, give it to me straight."

"Apparently, Dr. Jackson is in L.A. to do lunch with ICM."

"International Creative Management, that's a big agency. How's he going to get them to take him and still maintain security? What else?"

"Mitchell and Carter are in New York cutting their own deals. Carter also wants a book deal for her "Wormhole Physics" book so she's also got a literary agent. That's why she went to New York."

"Well at least Teal'c has some sense."

"Teal'c and Rak'nor went with the William Morris Agency. And Bra'tac signed with CAA, that's um, Creative Artists Agency, this morning."

"It's a free for all! You've got to do something, George!"

"I'll work on it, sir, just as soon as I have my sit down with Michael Ovitz this afternoon."

_"WHAT?"_

"He came out of retirement for this one, sir." Hammond chuckled. "He said Swifty Lazar is turning in his grave not being able to represent me!"

"This afternoon? You didn't lose any time, did you George?"

"Well I had to join the unions, SAG and AFTRA this morning. It's sort of a Catch-22 not having exactly been hired to do anything yet. But we got them to waive the requirements since I have made a number of televised appearances."

"I can't believe you still think you can work here after a stunt like this George."

"Sir, after we get done with GNN, none of this will matter."

"Okay, I got the message. What does everyone want to make this go away?"


End file.
